


love yourself

by ACatWhoWrites



Series: A Prompt a Day in the Month of May [20]
Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heartbreak, Intervention, M/M, Microfic, Morning After, One Night Stands, Past Character Death, Past Kim Jongin | Kai/Oh Sehun, Sehun is trying to avoid Feelings and doing an awful job, Short One Shot, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 12:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14716442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACatWhoWrites/pseuds/ACatWhoWrites
Summary: Have you ever tried "moving on?" It's not easy. Maybe Sehun doesn't want to. Maybe he's just not ready. He really loved Jongin.





	love yourself

Every bad thing that happens can be linked to mornings and sunrises and too-early-for-caffeine coffee.

Because every bad choice can be avoided if you just don't get out of bed.

And consequences from the avoided bad choices don't wake you up in the morning with coffee and open curtains to let the sunshine in.

“Rise and shine, asshole. This is your intervention calling.”

Unless consequences takes the form of your ex's older brother who's developed a pitying mother hen sense. “I thought I told you to lose my number.”

“Nice try. Get out of bed. You cannot—Ugh, what the hell? Nasty.” Sehun snorts into his pillow. It was kind of a nasty night, but in the best way. They didn't really have the energy to clean up. “You can _not_ just lie in bed and ignore your problems and feelings and phone calls from concerned friends.”

Oops. He's totally been meaning to plug in his phone. 

“I can if you leave.”

“Not gonna happen. Come on, up and at 'em!” Jongdae rips the blankets off the bed with his eyes closed, having learned from experience that just because Sehun's in bed does not mean he's wearing pajamas. “Get dressed, and come out. I'll make you breakfast.”

Sehun sits up. “You can't cook...” he mutters. There's a shirt on the chair beside his bed, and his jeans are on the floor. If he does his usual morning routine, Jongdae will just whine more. Yes, moping at his reflection is part of his routine; it lets him know he's still alive and miserable.

“Sehun, who is this?”

He stumbles into the kitchen, where a man with a familiar ass is stirring creamer he didn't know he had into a mug of coffee. It's his favorite mug. A gift with _Badass_ printed in swoopy script on a pink floral background.

“This is...uh...sorry,” he squints at the ass, but he can't place it—Taemin, Taeyong, Taehyung... “I don't think I caught your name.”

“I'd told you, but you kept calling me 'Jongin,' which is fine.”

Not so fine to his intervention, who has a distinct _bitch, plz_ expression. It's not a good look on him.

“Anyway, it was nice meeting you. I'll be out of your hair in a few minutes.” He raises his mug and returns to the bedroom, presumably to find the rest of his clothes.

“Okay, so I can explain...if I wasn't so fucking hungover. One side, male Asian Watson.” He heaves in the sink. There's nothing to upheave—he'd not eaten last night or yesterday afternoon or even yesterday morning, no wonder the alcohol disagreed with him, although that's not unusual, even when he does eat—so he just hangs over the sink with the faucet running over his head for a while until things stop moving so much.

If anyone can present an entire narrative of disappointment and concern in a single sigh, it's Kim Jongdae. “Sehun, how long are you going to keep doing this?”

“Until something comes up or the cows come home. I miss them.”

Jongdae turns off the faucet and drops a towel on Sehun's head. “I meant _this_. Hooking up with any person with a pulse who reminds you even a little bit of my brother.”

The anonymous booty call returns, rinsing out the mug and setting it in the sink. How polite. He waves too cheerfully for the morning, smiling brighter than Sehun's future.

“Sehun,” he speaks low, although they're alone, probably trying to not spook Sehun into running back into his room, locking the door, and hiding under his covers like he's done for most of the last couple of months. “I know you know this is not healthy, and it's the farthest thing Jongin would want for you.”

“We can't actually know that, can we, hyung?” Sehun rubs his hair with the towel and throws it into the sink. He'd like to throw that mug, maybe a plate or two, the vase of dead flowers he's never gotten rid of, because they were from Jongin's last show. “Because he's _gone_ , and that's the last thing I want for him, but I'm kind of stuck with it, aren't I?”

Jongdae moves slowly, carefully drawing Sehun into a hug. He's shorter, so Sehun bends down stiffly and just sort of hangs on him for a bit before clinging tight. “You don't have to be, if you'd accept help.”

“I don't want help.” He hides his face in Jongdae's shoulder to avoid looking at his reflection in the glass of his cabinets. “I just want Jongin.”

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to try a prompt a day in May, not following any list. This came from **wake up**.


End file.
